


Fear Makes Companions of Us All

by Sans Seraph (themothandthestars)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Car Sex, Edging, Fisting, M/M, Rimming, Wing Kink, Wing Oil, angel!Sam, human!Gabriel, mild bondage, reverse!verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:40:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themothandthestars/pseuds/Sans%20Seraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Samael the archangel is a possessive bastard. Even more so when Gabriel is injured on a hunt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear Makes Companions of Us All

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ShadowOfTheNight, who, should she find this, has just figured out who her anon is. Oops.
> 
> ETA: Holy crap, why is this getting hits? Who did the thing? Also, cleaned up (and expanded) because the original was un-betaed.

He says his name is Samael-call-me-Sam.

Gabe told him to go to Hell. It took more than a passing knowledge of Biblical lore and a schoolboy grin to impress him, even bleeding out. And? Demonic puppy chow or not, there was no such thing as angels. He should know.

Sam just laughed. Said his name suited him-the original Gabriel was _difficult_ , too. He'd like him. However, he was a good man (not _Tzadik_ or _Hasid-_ not righteous or holy-but good, and that was more than enough). More important, it was time to go Home now. He'd said it so earnestly, so reverently, that the capital h just seemed right and natural.

Gabriel gave him a sketchy sort of one finger salute and cheerfully continued staining the dirt of some historic cemetery in the middle of Bumfuck, Texas. Bal is gonna piss himself laughing and Cassie is gonna kill him-assuming he survives the whole gutting thing, that is.

“Gabriel, son of Charles, son of Eli, and beloved brother to many-I cannot return to Heaven without you at my side. You **will** come.”

***

It was a good deal, honestly. So long as Gabe said _no_ , Sammy would keep him from gaining new holes, or going wolfy, or whatever else came up in his day to day shit. He wouldn't- _couldn't_ -die until he consented to go upstairs with the featherhead, whole and undamaged. They _needed_ him, and it was kinda awesome.

Apparently it had something to do with Cas, who's got an angel of his own, and destiny and blah blah blah. Who cares? It's not like he believes in angels, they're just more supernatural douche bags out to yank his chain. But as long as Sam thinks he's got to do this fate thing, Gabe's got a nice get out of jail free card in his back pocket.

When Gabriel does get hurt- _really_ hurt, like bad-it's always a bit more interesting. Which is a nice way of saying Sammy Boy is a possessive pain in his ass.

Today, all he wants is peace and quiet, maybe a beer and a fucking sandwich, because he hasn't eaten since yesterday afternoon and he gets pissy when he's low on animal byproducts. He wants a shower and a change of clothes. He wants a warm, if not exactly soft (or clean) bed and some alone time. About twelve hours of it. Thirteen if he's managed to keep his brothers' dirty paws off his skin mags.

Too bad he's just not the lucky sort. What he _got_ was a hunt in another backwards town in the middle of no where-and why the hell did he always get the _weird_ ones? Seriously-Balthazar got the hot chicks, Cassie got his Dan Brown Bullshit, and him? He got pissed off unicorns. Fucking _unicorns_.

Well, necessity is the mother of creation, and all that, and never let it be said that Gabe isn't a creative little shit. And really? He's survived worse, all on his own. Doesn't mean it doesn't suck, parked under a grubby street lamp, waiting on his head to stop spinning so he can patch himself up good and tight.

Besides, you'd think the guy who'd just saved a daycare full of kids from a rampaging unicorn stallion-and who knew the symbol of purity and innocence would be such a fedora wearing dudebro?-would get a little more lovin', what with hooves and horns going all kinds of painful places and all, but _nope_. He gets to curl up in the back seat and hope with all his tarnished little heart that he doesn't stain the upholstery.

When Sam shows up all thunder and lighting and dangerous looks, Gabriel is equal parts unimpressed and ready to dig out that last bottle of holy oil. He's just not up for playing nice right now. Not when he's got hoof prints in his soft bits and rainbow sparkle shit on the paint job. Sure his sweet little lady is a bit beat up-Freyja is showing the millage more than him-and the vintage Mustang's radio only works on grey days, but she's still cherry red sex on wheels-and she's _his_ dammit. 

“Gabriel.”

Just one word, not even hello, and a massive hand settles, light as a bird, on his chest. One hand, and Sam has him on his back. The massive hand perching as if it's unsure what, exactly, it's supposed to be doing while the tickle-y twitch-y feel of his body knitting back together ripples across Gabriel's skin. He's tempted to tell Sam he's not that sort of girl-he's gotta buy him dinner first, but Gabriel is exactly that sort of girl, and Sammy has, in fact, brought him dinner once or twice so fuck it. The moment is gone, and the ass just gives his best lines a confused puppy look anyhow.

Not that he looks anything like a puppy now, shaggy hair and 'still hasn't grown into his paws' look aside. Gabe remembers how Sam is usually so very careful not to intimidate, not to force or use his borrowed body or holy strength against anyone-and how he had to stop is calling his ass on it a long time ago. Same with the whole follow your path speech; they've been happening less and less lately. In fact, more often than not, Sammy just levels a look a shade or two off from his brothers' 'stop being an idiot' glare while he patches him up.

So when Sam seems to decide on the brute force option, it's sort of understandable that Gabe is a bit slow on the uptake. His eyes flash an impossible, electric blue for half a heartbeat before Sam pushes him against the cold metal and vinyl of the door. They've slid back to their normal, human sort of impossible before Gabriel can so much as blink. It's not the first he's seen of Sam's uncanny side, but it _is_ one of the hardest to ignore.

Sam's human ride was a monster of a man in all the best ways, and Gabe's gut is flipping and flopping in ways that have nothing to do with trumped up ponies or supernatural douche bags. Hell, no. This is all about a long, hard body curled over him, predatory and possessive like someone in Heaven missed a few centuries worth of sexual harassment courses.

Not that he believes in angels. 

“You nearly died tonight. Promise me you'll be more careful in the future.” He breathes into Gabriel's throat.

“ _Careful_?

What the hell happened to 'time's up, good game, lets go cash in the chips'?”

“My brothers aren't kind creatures, Gabriel. _We_ aren't kind creatures.” Sammy sounds like he's trying not to growl, but everything is coming out distinctly snarly.

Gabriel suspects he knows how those big-eyed animals on Cassie's Discovery Channel marathons feel-and he's hoping like Hell it's not Shark Week.

“They don't really care about permission or consent. They don't care what you want.” Each word, said with the usual inhuman calm, was punctuated with forceful little kisses on neck and jaw and collarbone. 

“Not like I do.” Holy shit, he's gonna have the sort of suck marks that last for weeks, and isn't that just gonna lead to some awesome awkward stares and long silences with his brothers? 

Gabriel's legs were cramping already, tangled up with Sam's like a pair of horny teenagers in the back of his car, but all that really mattered was deciding just what color his eyes were. Or maybe how soft his hair was. It was gonna take a lot of studying. For science, and things. Jesus, he gorgeous.

As if reading his mind-and he was gonna some kick serious ass if he was-Sam grabbed him roughly behind the knees and _pulled_. Gabriel slid, upholstery bitching the whole way, the back of his head thumping on the armrest on the way down. He flailed, hands scrabbling for purchase but coming up empty. There just wasn't enough room to catch his breath, let alone for one over-sized feather duster and one perfectly respectable sized human. Not even with one leg thrown over the edge of the front seat and Sam settled between his knees like he belonged there.

“Jesus, Sammy. What the Hell?” He was absolutely not panting. At all.

“You need to be more careful.

Humans are such fragile creatures-so _delicate-_ and I won't loose you. Not to my brothers and not to anyone else.”

Angels run hotter than humans. Gabriel _knew_ this, he heard it all the damn time, along with all the other lines that made him snort in his soda-lines about melting faces and weapons of Heaven and be not afraid-but he didn't _understand_. Not until those too-big hands are sliding under his shirt, skating over the curve of his stomach and the planes of his hips, dwarfing him, making Gabriel feel just as small and delicate as the angel seems to think. Burning him up with careless touches that mapped flesh and bone and fate, and left goosebumps behind like a gift.

“You're _mine._ ”

Sam's inched his hands higher and higher, over soft round stomach and ticklish ribs, revealing Gabriel's skin inch by perfect inch, pale and freckled and flushed red so beautifully. Gabriel's shirt and heart were at his throat, arms trapped somewhere between both of them sliding off the seat and a tangle of thin red cotton. Nipples like fancy rose petals, all soft and sweet and dark, were begging to be sucked into tight little peaks when Sam's fingers skimming sensitive flesh.

“Every sweaty dream-

every stolen glance-

every night hiding away, calling my name like a prayer? They're mine.” 

He darted lower, flirting with Gabriel's belly button and smoothing through the trail of soft, caramel colored hair as he sought out the worn leather belt slung low across Gabriel's hips. He played with the clasp as much as the soft skin and trembling muscles before catching Gabriel's eyes. 

“Tell me to stop.”

“What? Jesus, fuck no!”

“Say it.

“S-stop!”

Sam pulled his hands away as if he'd been burnt, lust blown eyes still holding Gabriel's gaze. He pulled away til not even their knees touched, cramped as they were and Gabriel could only huff.

“Okay, made your point, Hot Wings. Get on with things." 

Gabe saw the flash of too-white teeth before the angel seemed to give up on the intricacies of human sex and his all important consent, and attacked his partner's clothes. Sam _ripped_ at faded denim and left Gabriel snared in his own pants; left him spread eagle with no room to maneuver, trussed up all prettily and on display like some pagan sacrifice. Ganymede and Zeus. 

“So good, all laid out for me. Begging.  


Saying no never even crossed your mind, did it?”

Of course it hadn't, fucking angel. Gabriel had been dreaming, literally, about getting his angel in just this sort of situation for an embarrassing length of time. He'd want him no matter what he looked like, what body he was in. There was a power and ferocity that boiled under the skin of whatever boy had given himself up to Samael all those months ago. He could only make a broken sort of sound that caught in his throat as if it hurt. 

“Want you, Sam.

Wanted you the first time I saw you.”

“I know.” Smug bastard. Smug, mind reading, bastard, who should _know better than that shit_. He was grinning as he left kitten licks and butterfly kisses across the curve of Gabriel's stomach. He tasted each dip and curve as if it were a new delicacy to discover, mapped each inch with his tongue as if it were some strange and exotic country. 

“You should have been a little bolder.” Sam nipped the peak of Gabriel's hip, enjoying the sight of pale skin gone flushing with _his mark_ before wrapping his hands around the soft curves there. “Warming the bench isn't like you.”

“ _Angel_.”

“We're soldiers, Gabriel. Not monks.”

“Er...” Well doesn't that just _blow_? Talk about wasted time. And fuck Sam for his stupid little grin 

Sam saved Gabriel from needing to form an actual reply to _that_ little revelation by swallowing him down. Angels, as it turned out, didn't really need to breathe. Not in the way humans, did, anyhow, and wondering about semantics was just gonna ruin everyone's fun.

What Sammy lacked in experience, he clearly made up in enthusiasm, licking and slurping like Gabriel's cock was a gourmet treat before darting up for a sloppy, glassy-eyed kiss.

“Over.” Sam didn't wait for him to figure out how to comply, moving Gabriel as if he were as light as one of his own feather. Flipping him til he was left gasping on his stomach, the denim mess around his ankles pulled tight.

“Look at you, my pretty boy.” His voice was reverent, hands gentle but firm as he put Gabriel exactly where he wanted him, cheek pressed to the seat and ass in the air. 

“Fuck!” The angel's tongue-oh, god, his _tongue_ -was warm and wet and ever so slightly ticklish on Gabriel's thigh, tracing up the seam of his ass, flicking over the too-sensitive skin there. 

“Oh fuck! Sam!”

Sam's hands are bigger than they have any right to be, palming Gabriel's ass and spreading him wide. He licks a long slow stripe up his ass that has Gabriel jerking at the pure strangeness of it. He has no where to go and he knows it. Not even when one of those massive paws smacks his ass with a sound like a gunshot. 

"Hold still, now. No moving til I'm finished."

Gabriel can only whimper and whine, trapped as he is, while Sam licks and nibbles at the tight skin of his hole. The occasional 'fuck!' or 'Sam, please!' sneaking out between truly sinful sounds. A finger-the smallest, by feel-slipped in easily as if Gabe were as wet and open as a woman. He hadn't heard the click of a cap or felt the cool bite of lube, leaving him bewildered and groaning in turns. Whatever it was tingled deliciously, burning the red, swollen skin of his ass. 

"Look at you, opening up for me so sweetly." Samael's voice was dropping a few octaves with each word, each little endearment. 

"'Open for me, my love, my dove, my perfect one.' My love thrust his hand through the opening, and my feelings were stirred for him.' So perfect, my little pet." 

"Is that-are you quoting scripture _during sex_? Sammy, you kinky bastard." He was gasping, sucking air like he'd run a marathon, but couldn't pass up a chance to tease. Not even with two thick fingers pumping and scissoring his ass open. 

"Oh yes. The Bible is thick with love making if you know where to look. I told you, we're not monks, Pet. Sex is a sacrament, and an angel's oil is equally good for marking their partners-for easing the way." 

Oh, God!

"You're marking me? Slicking-slicking me up inside with stuff from your wings?" He'd only seen them once. Now Gabriel desperately wanted to feel the hot, heavy spread over his back. Owning his body while Sammy fucked his ass. 

"Mm-hmm. Do you think I can get all my fingers in you before you come?" They were up to three, the knuckles too big, too rough and amazing. His cock was slapping his belly with each stroke, smearing the skin with shiny liquid. 

"Can you be good for me?" 

Sammy did some sort of complicated twisting, sliding maneuver, one hand on his cock and the other in his ass. Gabe was lost, keening and sobbing into the seat leather. 

"N-no! No. Too much. M'gonna blow." 

"Hm. I guess we'll just have to work on that again next time, won't we?"

_Next time?_  
"Jesus. Fuck. Yes please." Stringing together a full sentence was too much work, but he got the idea across. Gabriel was very much on board with that plan.

"Sam. Please!" 

He was at the angel's mercy, bound and face jammed into the seat and ass gaping, on display for the whole fucking world. Thick amber oil drooled from his hole, dripping down his legs obscenely. It makes the virgin skin of his inner thighs tingle and buzz, and _fuck him_ for being so damn calm. He was overwhelmed, too much, too soon, and too hot to think straight.

Sam's cock head was thick and blunt and huge, even now. He can feel every relentless inch, every ridge and bump as it slid home. He didn't give Gabriel much time to adjust, but then, he didn't really need it. No, Sam just fucked into him, ever so slowly and completely unrelenting.

Sam is forcing breathless whimpers and grunts from his throat with each ragged buck. Each slow, careful-frustrating-thrust left Gabriel's thighs a bit slicker, a bit more shiny with their mixed fluids. Each rough, raw scrap so unlike anything he'd done before, electric shocks run down his legs, up his spine, pool in his gut. 

“Sam?

Can't. I can't... I'm gonna..."

Sam wraps one massive hand tight and hot around Gabriel's cock. The other is wrapped tight around his hip like an iron band holding him in place. It was just this side of painful, and perfect. Every powerful rut forces Gabriel into fuck into Sam's hand. He can't help the high pitched, shattered little sound that escapes when Sam whispers in his ear, all deep and low and feral. Just three little words and Gabe is gasping and spilling all over his Underoos.

Sam follows close behind. He goes supernova, gold and white light blazing bright enough to blind; grip bruising. He cums hot stripes that Gabriel can feel painting him, marking him up inside and out. Leaves him moaning at the bizarre sensations.

When Gabriel blinks the stars out of his eyes, there's six massive wings taking up, oh, _every spare inch_ of his sexy girl's interior. The feathers in front of his eyes and down tickling his lips are bronze and brass and old gold and just as soon as his brain comes back on line, he's sure there's a joke there; little bits of golden fluff are floating in the electric orange stained light. But for now, there's a mess his precious girl's interior, and Sammy's too-hot, inhuman jizz is dripping down his thighs. He'd be pissed if it weren't kinda hot.

Fucking angels.


End file.
